


It's A Muggle Thing

by unbroken_halo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Sentinel
Genre: F/M, Little Black Dress, Rough Trade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/pseuds/unbroken_halo
Summary: ‘Nobody in my family’s magic at all.’ Hermione told Harry the first time they met on the train to Hogwarts. She neglected to tell him that the rest of her family were Sentinels or Guides because she was a witch and being magical was much more interesting. Only now, Hermione's senses have awoken and she needs her Guide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written during July 2018 for the Little Black Dress Challenge on Rough Trade and not beta-ed. Inspired by the idea of "What if Sentinels/Guides were the norm for some Muggles and our Hermione were just a late bloomer"? I've kept the first names Hermione gave her parents but returned their surnames to Granger.

The sounds of Grimmauld Place's residents coming awake filtered into her room on the third floor and Hermione rolled over, pulling the blankets up over her head to block out the noise. It became a cacophony as she too awakened. The voices echoed around the room as if her roommates were shouting at one another just mere inches away from her head. Stomping up and down the stairs jolted her body with each impact. Doors slammed, startling her muscles. She curled up tighter under the sheets, trying to muffle the racket when the din backed off and Hermione was certain she had gone deaf all at once.

She blinked and eased out of the fetal position, slowly sitting up. The resonances of the house and her friends carried on at a normal level. The blankets pooled in her lap, the soft material of the sleep-warm sheets, losing heat and she narrowed her eyes at the clock. Listening for a moment longer, Hermione waited for the reverberation to elevate again but nothing happened, and she shook off the odd occurrence as a strange dream after a late night of studying, almost gone-over Chinese takeaway and too much caffeine.

With a sigh, she tossed back the duvet and tugged on her fuzzy dressing gown before slipping on her matching furry house shoes. Covering a yawn, Hermione jerked on the door to her room, but nothing happened. Wrapping both hands around the doorknob, she pulled, digging in with her feet as she struggled with the stuck door until it finally gave way and she nearly flew arse over tit back into the bed.

Scowling at the door, she marched out of her room and entered the loo, which was still overly warm from the last person to use it. Her chest tightened from the heat and her breath caught as she stared at the fogged over mirror. Wet towels littered the floor and a pile of dirty clothes were tossed haphazardly just behind the door, a pair of red, lacy knickers decorating the top.

"Ginny," Hermione sighed and reached into the linen cupboard to see if there were any clean towels left. The mirror grumbled as Hermione grabbed a washcloth and wiped the fogged over glass.

"Thank you, deary," the glass replied. "Some people have no consideration."

Hermione hummed and set about her ablutions. She turned the faucet on for the shower and hung up her dressing gown on the back of the door then folder her clothing on the lid of the toilet. Stepping into the stall, Hermione turned her face to the flow of water letting it wash away the sleep from her eyes. She rubbed her face then ducked her head under the spray. Turning around, the warm water ran down her back and she sighed as the heat loosened the muscles.

The tiny pinpricks of water became needles of fiery blisters of pain and Hermione yelped, jumping away from the water and nearly sliding on the slick tiles. She howled as the ice cold wall burned her front and she scrambled out of the stall, standing on the damp towels, outside of the shower, looking back at the water in horror.

Stepping forward, she reached back into the water, the spray gentle once more, the temperature just as she liked it. Hermione held her hand in the water for a minute longer, waiting to see if the odd changes in the water were going to happen again. Shivering, she finally returned to the shower and finished her bath.

Thirty minutes later, Hermione bounded down the stairs. She dropped her travel bag onto the floor in the hallway and found her roommates all in the cavernous kitchen. "Morning."

A chorus of greetings assaulted her ears and Hermione winced at the noise but continued into the kitchen. She was starving and no amount of weird occurrences was going to stop her from eating the delicious smells of breakfast coming from the kitchen, especially on a day when it was Harry's turn to cook.

"'Bout time you came down," Ginny answered between bites of sausage. "Did you leave any hot water?"

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ginny as she moved across the room. "Considering the mess I found in our bathroom, it's a wonder there was a room left when I got there."

"I'll clean it up later," Ginny waved away Hermione's complaint. "At least you didn't have to follow Lavender."

Rolling her eyes at Lavender sitting on Ron's lap, Hermione scooted past Neville and sat down at the table. "I'll be leaving for Crawley for the weekend after breakfast, so I do hope so seeing as it is your weekend for cleaning."

Ginny made a face. "Good thing Mum was always handy with such spells."

Harry slid a plate of pancakes on the table for Hermione while she prepared her cup of tea and Neville floated a plate of rashers toward the opposite end of the table.

"The entire weekend?" Harry asked and sat down across from Hermione.

Hermione grinned at the little orange wedges sitting on the rolled pancakes. A dusting of sugar lightly covered the top and the sweet smell made her stomach snarl in anticipation. She looked up at Harry. "Thank you for making my favourite, Harry, and yes, the entire weekend. I'll be back on Monday. Mum and Dad have something special planned."

Harry smiled at her. "Yeah? Give them my best then."

Hermione nodded, looking around the table. "I'd invite you all, but it's Muggle family thing."

"We understand, Hermione," Neville answered. "Besides, Ginny's coming with me to see Gran."

"And Lav and I are going to see Bill and Fleur and the new baby, so the only one you are really abandoning is Harry." Ron chuckled.

Hermione laughed. "Sorry, Harry. I'll think of you while I enjoy these pancakes." She turned the plate around and picked up her fork, carefully slicing into the pancakes. She scooped up some of the oranges with the bite. The first taste was amazing, as she knew it would be. Harry had only improved in the kitchen since they had all decided to move into the London house, but this time he had outdone himself.

She closed her eyes in bliss and chewed, then, in the next instant, the light orange taste had turned rancid and sour. She choked and coughed, her eyes flying open and her hand dropping the fork to the table, while the other lifted to cover her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Harry jumped up, moving to help her, but she held up a hand, carefully spitting out the bite into a serviette that Lavender had passed her while Ron slapped her on the back.

"It's fine… I'm fine…." Hermione breathed. Her hand shook as she reached for her tea, and with a deep breath, she took a sip. Nothing but hot, sweet tea. It warmed and soothed her throat, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm okay."

Harry dropped back into his chair. "Good, but let's not have any more excitement, yeah?"

Drinking another mouthful of tea, Hermione gave him a weak smile, an anxious sensation settling around her middle. "Agreed."

~*~

Hermione stared out the window as the train departed from the station, the uneasy feeling she had at breakfast still sitting in her stomach. She rubbed her belly and leaned back in the seat, trying to take her mind off the events of the morning and focussed on her weekend and her upcoming birthday.

She was going to be twenty-one, and she knew that her parents had arranged for her to have some private driving lessons. She couldn't wait. However, she forced herself to slow down because she wanted to cherish the time with both her friends and her family.

It wasn't all that far from London to Crawley, and though her parents had offered to come into London to retrieve her, she had wanted a little time to herself before seeing her family. She needed a bit of adjustment time going from magic to Muggle.

It wasn't that she didn't love her family-- she did-- and her parents had come around after the nasty business of restoring the proper memories, but there was a subtle tension between them as if her parents were waiting for something to happen. She knew what it was, but she was also quite certain it was never going to happen. She was a witch. She was magical. She was never going to be a Guide, nor a Sentinel, no matter what.

And she knew that her parents had accepted that. She had accepted it as well. She loved being a witch. Before her Hogwarts letter had come, she had dreamed of being a Guide like her mum and dad, helping calm people before treating them. Or a Sentinel like her Aunt Sheila in Australia who was a barrister and fought for the downtrodden.

Instead, she had turned into something better: a witch. She had new dreams then, new crusades, and new friends and secrets. Her mum and dad were extremely proud of her accomplishments as a witch.

However, the events of this morning concerned her. Her majority had come and gone as far as both the Muggle and Wizarding world was concerned. The Trace was long gone from her wand. She had taken her N.E.W.Ts, and would soon be sitting her Muggle A-levels. Perhaps she was overdoing it some, but she didn't think so. She had everything under control.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the train lull her to sleep for the rest of the short trip.

Hermione jolted awake when the train came to a stop at the station. Blinking, she waited for the other passengers to gather their items before she slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the train. Her father was waiting for her in the terminal, and she ran to him once she stepped off the train.

His arms came about her and held her tightly to him. She breathed in his scent, the smell of the dental office lingering on his cardigan, and under that antiseptic smell was the scent of his aftershave: Floris No. 89. It was a scent she would always associate with her father. "Hello, Dad."

He squeezed her just a bit tighter before letting her go. "Hermione, love. You're looking well. This all you brought?"

Hermione nodded. "Mum mentioned shopping, so I have another bag tucked inside for us to fill."

Wendell Granger laughed, folded Hermione under his arm and turned her out of the station toward the car park. "She'll love it. It's all she's mentioned since you finalized the plans."

Hermione waited for her father to unlock and open the door for her then she slid inside the car and buckled the safety belt. They chatted idly about the dental practice and the weather, while Wendell drove to Hermione's childhood home. The closer they came to the orderly subdivision where Hermione had played as a child, a tight feeling developed in her chest. She rubbed her sternum when they turned onto the final street.

She didn't know if it was nerves or if the pancakes she had choked down to show her friends that she was fine, were coming back to seek revenge, but her stomach and chest hurt worse than before. The car door creaked open and Hermione's breath began to wheeze out of her lungs. She gripped the car door as she stood.

The air rushed around her, the sound of the wind rustled through the trees, and roared in her ears. The sunlight brightened, almost blinding her and she squeezed her eyes closed, gasping at the pain the brilliance had wrought.

"Hermione?"

Wendell grasped Hermione's elbow and the sounds lessened, the lustre faded and returned to an almost normal level. She looked up at her father, blinking slowly. "Dad?"

Wendell frowned at her. "All right, darling?"

"I--- Can we go inside?"

He nodded and helped her around the car and into the house.

"Monica!"

Inside the house, her senses were better, calmer, but she could still tell that something wasn't quite right. Hermione heard her mother before she saw her and drew in a deep breath. She smelled her favourite cake: vanilla sponge cake. The lemon curd was extra citrusy and the fresh cream floated lightly in the air. "Oh, Mum."

Closing her eyes, Hermione took another deep breath, the sweetness nearly overwhelming her when another fragrance surpassed the cake. Monica Granger wrapped her arms around Hermione dulling over all her senses and Hermione sighed.

"Mum… I'm home," she murmured.

"I know, darling. Let go, I've got you."

"All right," Hermione answered and passed out into her mother's calming embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

Monica held Hermione's hand while she slept. Though she lay still and prone on her back, Hermione's eyes moved rapidly while she dreamed. Her facial expressions changed from lax and peaceful to grimaces of pain then back again and Monica smoothed a hand over Hermione's brow, trying to settle her. As a mature Guide, she could temper many of Hermione's senses, but the effects would be temporary. With both Wendell and her in the room, they could almost create a completely dead sensory area around Hermione but some breakthrough would happen. It was a hard thing to accept that nothing you could do as a parent and as a Guide could help your child through something in their life.

Life happened regardless of the protections created by man or magic, and some sense, some emotion or something magic would slip through the barrier Monica and Dell had tried to create to ease Hermione's senses. Only a small noise would upset the fragile peace and the illusion would be shattered.

A Sentinel's Awakening was never a gentle process. In fact, most times it was often very traumatic, and Monica thanked the heavens Hermione's had been quite gentle compared to some she had seen. Debates still ranged on the subjects of Muggles and Magical, Sentinels and Guides in many academic circles of those in the know. And the little that Monica did know, she'd gleaned from her post-University studies. Information about both magic and Sentinels could be discovered if you knew where to look for it.

Modern medicine and science hypothesized that when one sense was diminished due to a birth defect or another cause the body would compensate by strengthening the other senses. Genetics sometimes played a part as well and created humans with the extra chromosomes that produced magic using humans or Sentinels.

All humans had the potential to become a Sentinel, a Guide, or a magical; it all depended on the right gene sequence being triggered by the proper circumstances. Once the progression had been activated the body had one of two choices: to finish the process to balance and stabilize or to shut down the extra senses and maintain the previous model.

At the present time, Monica had decided, Hermione was in a sort of stasis. At least that is what she hoped, and she also hoped that it was her magic that was helping keep her safe. As rare as it was for the magic to manifest when the Sentinel or Guide chromosomes were dominant, it was even more so for a Magical Sentinel or Magical Guide to emerge, especially so late in one's development stages.

Very little of the techniques she or Wendell had learned to calm a Sentinel were helping their daughter, and though they had contacted others for help, similar procedures had also produced no results. Each Guide contacted though had made it clear that if the Sentinel was not responding to the generic methods then a bond must be formed in order to calm the Sentinel.

Bonded Sentinels were rare. Those that ended up Bonded were usually military members or those that had horribly tragic beginnings. Of course, Magical Sentinels were even more scarce and even less was known about them. It shouldn't have surprised her though. She'd known her daughter was going to be special.

Once Hermione began exhibiting signs of magic, and the first letters came explaining the strange happenings, she and Dell had set out learning all they could about the Wizarding World. They'd watched their baby enter a place they could only half follow, letting her guide them and offering her all their support as they had always planned and had trained to do. Only instead of preparing for a small Sentinel or Guide, they learn about magic and all its lustre and darkness.

The hardest thing Monica had ever done was allow her daughter to protect them. It went against every parental instinct, every Guiding nature she had, but she had done it. Allowing the Memory Modification spells, turned every Guide sense in her body on high alert, but she and Dell had followed her daughter's desires. Now, she was returning the protection; doing that which came naturally to her as a parent and a Guide. Only it wasn't enough. Monica needed more and she was going to use the world that had nearly stolen her baby.

Dell, on the other hand, was having a bit of a problem about contacting the wizards. He'd resigned himself to Hermione just being a witch. He was proud of her but he'd have rathered her stay in the Muggle world, especially after that nasty wizard war. He'd been extremely cross with her both before and after they'd come home from Australia, and the easy father/daughter relationship had just recently worked itself out.

Monica glanced over at him as he paced along the long window that ran the length of Hermione's room. Crookshanks followed after him, keeping pace and occasionally weaving in and out of his long strides. Dell chewed on his bottom lip, his brown hair standing on end from the endless worrying of his fingers running through the short strands. His cardigan had been abandoned across the squishy armchair, and the first few buttons of his oxford were undone, his sleeves rolled to his elbows.

She shook her head then turned back to Hermione. Monica reached out and ran the washcloth over Hermione's face, trying not to smile when she turned into the gentle touch. Sighing, she cleared her throat and glanced over at Dell.

"You know what you've to do, darling."

Dell huffed. "I know. I don't want to leave you and Hermione, though."

"It must be done. Her Guide will be magical, Dell."

Dell crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Monica. "We almost lost her to that world once. She nearly died fighting in their war. I don't want to go to that Ministry and ask for their help."

Monica nodded. "I know, and I understand, but we need help. None of our people is going to be able to Bond with her. It's going to be a wizard."

Closing his eyes, he ran his hands over his face. "I know," he muttered. With a sigh, Dell grabbed his cardigan and sat down in the armchair. "Let me change then I'll head back into London."

"We'll be fine," Monica replied. "I promise." She smiled as she watched Crookshanks settle between Dell's feet, watching him keenly with his vivid amber eyes.

"Take Crookshanks with you," Monica said. "He can help you, I have a good feeling about it."

"Prongs," Hermione muttered. She rolled over, and Monica let Hermione's hand slip from her fingers. Hermione curled her body, pulling her legs up toward her stomach and shivered. A ghostly mist exhaled from her mouth and pooled about the bed, forming into a white, sleek otter that laid down beside Hermione.

The animal turned to look down at Crookshanks. The cat stood from his place at Dell's feet and toed-up to Hermione's bed, sniffing the apparition. The otter touched noses with Crookshanks then nodded at the feline. Crookshanks raced around the other side of the bed to Monica's side, Dell followed.

The otter settled alongside Hermione and she relaxed as the animal rested with her. The otter laid its head on her shoulder watching Monica with dark, intense and knowing eyes. Monica stared back at the otter for several minutes then shook her head.

Monica blinked. "Darling?" She leaned over, meeting the otter's gaze once more. "Did you say something?"

"Prongs," the Otter/Hermione whispered.

Dell scratched his head. "Did she say 'prawns'?"

The otter sat up, rubbed its face with both paws, and breathed, "Harry Potter." The otter laid back down along Hermione's side and closed its eyes before fading away.


	3. Chapter 3

Grimmauld Place was quiet and although Harry enjoyed the house with the sounds of his friends filling the rafters, he also enjoyed it silent as it was now. It was rare that the house was mostly empty of its residents, but on occasion, it did happen. And Harry took advantage of those times.

After seeing his friends off, he cleaned up the breakfast dishes and went back to bed, sleeping away most of the first day of his weekend. The next morning, after a simple breakfast of tea and toast, Harry read the paper and answered his mail, laughing at the owl from Ron about the new baby.

Harry stored Molly's weekly delivery of baked goods into the cupboard and then set out on foot to the greengrocers for a few items. Although there were biscuits and tarts in the cupboard, he'd developed an awful addiction for Jelly Babies, thanks to Hermione. She'd brought the candies back with her when they went to retrieve her parents from Australia, and he'd been eating them ever since.

He justified the consumption of the sweet treats with the daily walk as he snacked on the jellies on his way back to Grimmauld Place. Guilty pleasure completed for the day, Harry decided to get started on a few of the household upkeep chores he'd been letting slide. With the house nearly empty, it was a good time to clean up protections, renew wards and strengthen spells.

Starting in the basement kitchen, Harry walked through the room, taking in the feel of the house. In spite of its name, Grimmauld wasn't quite so grim any longer. Although he hadn't really updated the construction of the house, with the one exception of removing a certain wall and painting, Harry and his friends had given the place a thorough cleaning and had tossed out much of the original decor. It had been replaced with light, colour, and laughter.

The house looked and felt like a band of teenagers lived in it. The furniture was mismatched but clean. Some furniture had been donated from Lavender's parents. Other pieces salvaged from Grimmauld itself, and a few bits chosen from the Oxfam shop. Molly's curtains hung in the kitchen and Hermione's knitting could be seen draped over the couches and armchairs in the parlour, the drawing room, and each room had a handmade throw to snuggle up in on those cold nights.

Everyone had added their own bits and bobs to make the house a home and privately referred to it as Potter's Place, even though it was a high-security passcode allowance only on the Floo Network as Grimmauld.

The kitchen was the heart of the place, Harry felt. Good and bad things had happened in this house, but it was all he had left of Sirius. Sirius had opened the place for the Order in a time of need and Harry was now sharing it with his friends in a time of prosperity. He checked the room over for creatures that might have slipped through the protection spells and Banished those that had sneaked in past the weaknesses in the magic of the house.

As he moved through the ground floor, cleaning as he went, Harry also recast the wards, strengthening the protections for not only the house but for his friends as well.

Moving up the stairs, Harry smiled at the many pictures that lined the walls where the elf heads had once hung. All of their parents, including a wizarding photo of Hermione's mum and dad, intermingled with portraits of the six of the roommates that lived in the house. Candid and formal shots, both Muggle and Wizard, of each person that lived in the house was on the wall. It showed the progress of the last few years, the friends enjoying and living their lives. There were others, too, and not just photographs, either.

Hand drawn art by Dean Thomas was showcased on the walls. Images of beautiful scenery and strange animals from Luna and her adventures found a home among frames of Charlie and his fellow dragon keepers. Ron's brothers, Neville's plants, Lavender's star charts, Ginny's Quidditch teammates, and even Dudley and his girlfriend had a place on the walls in Harry's house.

Harry had made Grimmauld Place a home with the bits and pieces he'd gathered, and as he stood at the landing at the top of the staircase, looking back at the lower floors, he breathed out a pleased sigh that he could see in the air.

He frowned as the mist continued to flow from him until the fog coalesced into his Patronus form. Prongs bowed his head to Harry and stood on the landing beside him, his antlers, gleaming in the sunlight that filtered in through the windows.

Harry swallowed and reached a hand out to the buck, and Prongs rubbed his nose against Harry's palm. A soothing calm filled Harry and he closed his eyes as the sensation flowed through his body. He could feel the air heat around him as the sunlight brightened and warmed the room.

Squeezing his eyes closed tighter, Harry tried to block out the brightness, but it surrounded him, and though his heart was racing, he wasn't scared. Prongs butted against his hand again, and this time, the sensation was stronger. Harry felt the dampness from Prongs' nose and the soft fur around his muzzle.

"She needs you, Harry," Prongs breathed, and Harry felt the words against his skin, heard the words in his mind and in his ears, and they sounded as if they were said in his own voice.

"Who?" Harry whispered although he had an idea that he already knew. A growing sense of realization was filling him and he wasn't quite certain what to make of it.

Prongs snorted and shook his head. Harry felt the tips of his antlers graze the top of his head as Prongs stepped forward. The power from the push shoved into Harry and he gasped as Prong's form moved into him. He stiffened, exhaled, and then breathed in the scent of her as a small otter appeared over Prong's shoulder.

"Hermione," Harry murmured and opened his eyes as the scent of Hermione's perfume grew stronger. Through the glare of the light, Harry could just make out Hermione's shadow shape, her hand holding the little otter's paw.

"Come with him, Harry. Please," the otter begged and then the pair faded.

The light grew dim and Harry's vision narrowed. He could see more clearly and the house began to take shape around him. Prong's tail wriggled at his navel and he looked down to see the ghostly fluff give one more shake before it vanished inside of him.

Harry laid his hand on his stomach, feeling nothing but peace. Blinking, he stood still on the landing between the floors as if nothing had happened. Dust mites twinkled in the air of the afternoon sunlight, the hall clock chiming out the hour.

The doorbell peeled multiple times and made Harry jump. Wand raised, he raced down the staircase and threw open the door to find Crookshanks on his hind legs, his heavy paws pressed against the bell button and Wendell Granger standing in the middle of the path.

Harry stepped out onto the stoop, sidestepping the cat as he darted inside the house and then walked down the path. "Dr Granger?"

Dr Granger startled but looked up at Harry and smiled in relief. "Harry. Thank heavens, we found you." He stepped forward then stopped. "I've been following Crookshanks around this street for about an hour, but I keep losing him."

Harry smiled. "Sorry about that. I thought Hermione had connected your Floo to ours."

"She might have, but--" He paused and Harry's stomach turned. "Might we go inside?"

"Oh, yes, sorry," Harry stammered. "Hang on." He reached out and took Dr Granger's elbow. "This works with my cousin, Dudley, so let's hope it works with you as well, even if you aren't blood-related."

Dr Granger looked confused for a moment, but Harry guided him between the houses to the steps and pulled him into Number Twelve. Harry let go of Dr Granger's arm and turned to close the door. "Just down the hall to the kitchen, if you remember."

"Thank you, Harry," Dr Granger murmured and moved forward, Crookshanks following in his wake.

Harry entered the kitchen and pointed his wand at the cool cabinet, Summoning a butterbeer for himself as Crookshanks padded over to him and meowed. A bowl shot out of the cupboard and filled with water as a second bowl appeared next to it and kibble clattered into the porcelain.

"Can I offer you some tea, or would you like something stronger?" Harry inquired as he tugged out the end of the bench from the table.

"Tea would be welcome, Harry and thank you," Dr Granger decided and settled on the bench watching Harry as he prepared the kettle using a mix of magical and Muggle means. He smiled as the teacup and sugar bowls floated over to him, but Harry settled the cream container on the table himself.

"Won't be long," Harry said. "Want to tell me what's wrong with Hermione, now?"

Dr Granger took a deep breath. "You know something is wrong?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really, but her Patronus came to see me. I'm not certain if she is actually is in trouble or not, though." He sipped his butterbeer and gave Dr Granger a long look. "I don't think it's anything good though."

Dr Granger nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut across by the kettle when it whistled and Hermione's voice said, "Move me now, Harry. Don't let me boil!"

He chuckled when Harry stood and did as the kettle commanded when it repeated itself. "She's got you trained up already then, eh?"

Harry laughed. "I suppose, but she's right that the tea tastes better when the water's just hot enough but not boiling." He poured the water into a pot and scooped some leaves from a canister into the pot then set on the lid. He covered the pot with a knitted cosy and placed it in front of Dr Granger, waving his wand over the pot to release a seven-minute timer in smoky numbers that counted down just above the yarn-covered pot.

"How did you know?" Dr Granger asked as Harry sat down across from him once more.

Harry flicked his wand and Summoned a plate and the tin of biscuits that Molly had sent this morning.

"You like yours a bit stronger and Mother Granger likes her a bit lighter," Harry answered. "Hermione likes hers exactly five minutes." He shrugged and Dr Granger smiled at him. It settled something in Harry's stomach and he drank a swallow of his butterbeer to cover the silence in the room.

"Call me, Dell," Dr Granger offered as he took a biscuit from the tin and crunched into the sweet. "We've much to discuss before we leave for Crawley."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry listened to Wendell's explanation with a bit of confusion and trepidation. When the conversation was over, he stared at Dell for a moment before asking. "Does Hermione know you're here?" He held up his hand, shaking his head. "Forget I asked, of course, she knows. I saw her, she told me to come with you, but does she know _exactly_ what you are asking of me for her?"

Dell sighed. "Hermione has known her entire life there was a chance this day would come."

Harry's eyes widened. "She knew that one day you'd eventually give her to some man to _settle_ her."

"I beg your pardon." Dell glared at Harry. "I'm not… Did you not understand what I just told you?"

Harry looked down at the table, trying to sort through his emotions and the immense amount of information he'd been told. He wasn't stupid by any definition of the word, but he often jumped to conclusions just by his first emotional reaction to information. He cleared his throat, ready to explain himself, and tried not to offend the man any more than he'd already had.

Looking up, Harry met Dell's angry expression and looked him directly in the eye. "You said, if I understand this correctly, Hermione's a Sentinel, meaning her senses, both emotional and physical, are in a hyperactive state. Now, she needs a specialized Guide to help her bring her new abilities under control."

Dell nodded, and Harry could see the relief on his face as his emotions calmed. "Very good, yes. She--"

Harry held up his hand. "I don't mean to cut across you, but I'm not finished. The situation isn't difficult to understand, but it is very involved."

"Extremely." Dell waved his hand at Harry to continue.

"Hermione's situation is particularly strenuous because she is also magical, and because she is magical, she'll need the magical version of the Guide to form a connection."

"Exactly!"

"And this bond is forever?"

Dell made a face. "I think it is. I don't actually know. Bonded Sentinel/Guide pairings are rare. Most often a guide is only needed when a Sentinel is first awakened or if they become overfocused on a particular sense."

"This happens often?" Harry asked. "Over-focusing?"

"Sometimes, but most Sentinels are prepared and trained to care for themselves, and they know how to avoid zoning out. Those that require a bond are perpetually in dangerous situations and must remain in a hyper-aware state, so they need the guide near."

"Hermione's magic changed the rules for you."

"Yes," Dell answered. "Most of the training Monica and I have is to help our patients remain calm during their dental exams and treatments. We are occasionally on call to help a newly awakened Sentinel as well, but nothing we've tried for Hermione has helped much."

"And she wants me?" Harry finished after Dell's outburst. "You think I can help her where you have failed."

"She does, and we do." Dell smiled. "Harry, everything I have heard about you, and from what I have witnessed today, it would be an honour to have you be bonded as my daughter's Guide. I know you will do what's right for her and keep her safe."

Harry leaned back in his chair and studied Dell. "You do know it was my fault she was drawn into the war, yeah?"

"I know it was because she was your friend and that she wanted to help you that she decided to participate."

Leaning forward, Harry met Dell's eyes again. "It was my fault we were captured and Hermione was tortured."

Dell licked his lips and ran a hand over his mouth. He cleared his throat and tapped a finger on the table between them. "I don't know that for certain. I don't know everything that happened then, and I'm not meant to. Some things we aren't meant to know; I'm a firm believer in that. I do know my daughter's side of the tale, Harry, and that she is a smart, determined, and strong-willed young woman." Dell took a deep breath. "I also know that a madman started that war with a child. Not something you had any control over." He paused and ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes before continuing.

"I will admit that I wasn't thrilled with her being involved, in fact, I was downright angry with her for putting herself in danger. I was angry at many people, but you weren't one of them. It was the fact that it's always the young and bright that are sent out to war. That it's the old and experienced that think we know best as we send out those new lives to do battle. That it is for the greater good, that we don't repeat the mistakes of the past, and yet, we make all new ones trying to pave the way for the future."

Dell shook his head and sighed. "Regardless of my feelings, Monica and I reared Hermione to stand up for what she believed in, and the magical world was to be her home. She had every right to stand up for it and defend it."

"That's an interesting way to look at it," Harry said. "I've been vilified by others with less at stake than you."

Dell sneered. "I've come to terms with the fact that my baby girl is an adult now and that she has experienced people, places, situations, and emotions that I never shall. I did what I could to guide her, to give her what she needed to be a strong, responsible and reasonable person, and I am proud of her. Full stop."

Harry grinned. "You might tell her that."

Dell chuckled. "I think I shall."

Harry stood. "Let's go then."

~*~

Hermione awoke to feel as if she'd gone a few rounds with a mountain troll. Turning her head, she looked about the room, smiling at the drawn shades and the dimmed lights. Running her hand along the blankets, she rubbed the soft cotton sheets against her fingers enjoying the feel of the smooth material on her skin. Her mother had dressed her in an old t-shirt and though she knew her senses were on alert, she wasn't lost in them. She wasn't focused on one sensation over another as she allowed herself to take in the rest of her surroundings, trying out her new situation.

Her room hadn't changed much from when she'd last been home and had taken the things she'd needed to move into Grimmauld Place. She was comfortable in her parent's house because this had been her home for most of her life. Her formative years, many fantastic and loving memories were made in this house and it would always be where she felt safest until she claimed a home of her own with her Bonded.

A tiny sensation of panic spiralled through her. The spark of her magic, the very thing that made her a different Sentinel, responded to her thoughts of her Guide and to being bonded. Her heart thudded in her chest and she heard the sound in her ears as if it were a drum. Hermione sat up, licked her lips and groaned. As if summoned by the sound, Monica entered the room with a small tray and offered her a bottle of water.

"How are you, pumpkin?" Monica asked.

Hermione took the bottle, and as soon as her fingers brushed Monica's the sound of the pounding of her heartbeat lessened. The beating receded to a steady thrum back into her chest and she closed her eyes, listening to the low sound and trying to learn how to keep it there.

"You'll get this darling," Monica whispered. "Your father will return soon."

"I know." Hermione murmured and cracked open the seal on the bottle. She carefully sipped the room temperature drink. She sighed and nodded at her mother as she drank more and quenched her dry throat.

"Well, I've been better, but I'm not awful, so there is that."

Monica chuckled and settled in the armchair beside the bed. "I made you something to eat if you want to try. It's just a few light sandwiches; jam, cucumber, and cheese and tomato. I've tea prepared, too, just in case the sandwiches were too much."

Hermione smiled, leaned back against the pillows. "Perhaps in a bit. I'd like to freshen up before Daddy and Harry arrive."

"All right. And I suppose, being dressed is also on your agenda?"

"Yes, it is. I mean, he's seen me at my worst, but one would like to, at least, be dressed decently when you tell your best friend that you need him to bond with you for the rest of your life so you don't go insane."

Monica frowned at Hermione. "Darling, you do know that this bonding might not be necessary."

Hermione leaned forward and took her mother's hand. "Mum… I went to see him. I _know_ my Guide is Harry. We will bond once he arrives, and I hope he doesn't hate me for ruining his chances at a happily ever after."

Monica patted Hermione's hand. "I think you'll find that everything will work out as it is supposed to have done, pumpkin."

Nodding, Hermione, brushed back the blankets and slid out from under the sheets. Monica helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist when the front door of the house opened downstairs, and Dell's voice floated up to them.

"Monica, love, we're here."

Hermione stiffened in Monica's arms as two sets of footsteps started up the stairs, the falls getting faster and faster the closer they came to her room. Dell was the first one through the bedroom door, but Hermione only saw Harry as her father stepped inside.

"Harry," she breathed.

"All right, Hermione?" Harry inquired.

She stared at him, taking in the sight of him. He stared right back at her then his body stiffened. Prongs materialized next to him and her back straightened as her Otter poured from her fingertips. The ghostly spirit animals circled about the room for only seconds before vanishing.

Harry stepped forward into the room proper and Hermione rushed to him. She settled into place, wrapping her arms about Harry, sliding her fingers under his jacket to clench his t-shirt in her fists. She breathed in deep, pulling in the scent of the outside air and the fragrance of his shaving cream. Harry's arms cradled her, holding her gently, but firmly against him.

Burying her face in the crook of his neck, Hermione sighed and smiled as she felt him shuddered in her arms. Her senses narrowed to the two of them and the way he felt, the scent of him and the sound of his heart as it beat. His rhythm slowed to match hers after he had run up the stairs and each breath he drew, grew deeper to match the soft, steady inhale of hers.

Looking up, Hermione opened her eyes and found him staring at her. "My Guide," she whispered.

Harry smiled at her. "My Sentinel."

She nodded.

"You've been waiting for me?"

"Yes. I knew you'd come, once Daddy explained everything."

"And you are certain about this?"

"Can't you feel it, Harry?"

"I can. I just want to be certain."

Hermione smiled. "I am."

Harry swallowed and she watched the muscle of his Adam's Apple jump then looked at his face once more. She waited while he worked out whatever it was he was going to say. He reached up and traced her mouth with a fingertip. "May I?

Asking for permission, hadn't even occurred to her, and it amused her, but it also charmed her, and so Hermione smiled. "Yes, please."

She closed her eyes as Harry slanted his mouth across hers. His kiss was soft and simple, sweet, and her senses clicked into place as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life. She sighed and leaned harder against him. It must have been the sign he was looking for because Harry's arms wrapped about her even tighter and he deepened the kiss.

His tongue brushed across her lips and she opened for him, sinking into him for her first taste of him and committing it to memory, even as the vague sound of her bedroom door closed to give them privacy.


	5. Chapter 5

Hands over all, needing, wanting to touch and sliding over clothed skin. Hot, much too much heat between them. His jumper tugged at his ears as Hermione pulled it off his head and tossed it away.

Harry bit at her mouth, tasting her and drowning in the sensation of being this close to her. Her shirt was just a thin barrier between him, her breasts, and the temptation of her body. She tugged at it, moving clothing aside to press against his flesh.

Time felt slowed and yet, it all seemed as if there wasn't enough time to learn all he needed to keep her safe. Nails scraped on his skin and his head spun at the urgency, the need and the sensations. The slight pain brought a bit of clarity to his lust-addled mind.

As much as Harry wanted to climb inside of Hermione, a small amount of his brain remained aware of the fact that they were new to this aspect of their relationship. The raging sense of need, to touch her and hold her, to claim her, calmed even as his hands continued to rub along her back. He eased out of the kiss, shaking his head and groaning as he watched her lean into his withdrawal.

"Hermione," Harry murmured and stroked his fingers along her cheek. The faint blush on her skin fascinated him until she opened her eyes. The normal brown-green tint of her eyes was just a sliver of near gold, the pupils blown wide as she looked up at him. It reminded him of the way Ron looked when he'd overdosed on the love potion. The expression on her face sobered him almost immediately.

"Hermione. Stop."

Whinging, Hermione breathed in, drawing deep the scent of the two of them and tried to move closer. Harry, reluctantly, moved back even farther, putting some space between their bodies.

"Harry," Hermione breathed and wriggled closer. "Don't go." She lifted her head, pursing her lips together again, trying to slant her mouth over his.

Harry buzzed her mouth several times, light and quick, then more slowly, trying to remain focused and clear against his desire for her. "Slow down. I'm not going anywhere."

Hermione sighed and rested her head against his chest and Harry encircled her in his arms once more, holding on tightly. His heartbeat slowed as he breathed in the smell of her hair potions, and he could feel her respirations begin to match his own. The thumping of their hearts synchronized and all at once he felt tired, but at peace as well.

Stroking a pattern along her back, Harry guided her over to the armchair by the window and manoeuvred them around until he was sitting with her cradled in his lap. She tucked herself up under his chin and pulled the t-shirt she wore down over her bent knees, her face still firmly pressed against his throat. The puffs of air from her nose tickled his skin, but he felt each inhale and closed his eyes when she ran her tongue across his Adam's apple.

"Hermione, tell me what's happening." Harry squeezed her to him, jostling her a bit to break her concerted efforts of leaving a love bruise on his neck.

Her fingers clenched in his shirt, sharp nails scratching his chest, and she exhaled a soft breath and spoke. "We are bonding. The more contact we have the better," Hermione answered and she licked him again.

Harry shuddered and moved to give her a better view when Hermione raised her head to look up at him. She cupped his cheek and he leaned into her hand. She smiled at him and gently ran her fingers up the side of his face and into his hair. Tugging gently on the dark, wild strands before loosening her fingers, Hermione traced over the top of his ear, learning the curvature of the lobe before leaning forward to draw the skin into her mouth.

"Humans have five senses; the ears to hear," she murmured against his ear. Rubbing her face alongside his own, Hermione continued to speak and Harry found himself mimicking her actions. "The skin to touch."

Much like Crookshanks, Hermione swept her face against Harry's, caressing them cheek to cheek, before she held his head in her hands. Her fingers splayed, keeping him still and touching as much of his face as she could, and then she brushed the ends of their noses together. She paused, tucked her face into his neck once more and breathed deeply of him and whispered, "the nose to smell."

Harry chuckled when she licked him again and tilted her head to press their mouths together. She drew him into a slow, lingering kiss, nibbling on his mouth to gain entrance before slipping her tongue inside. "The tongue to taste," she said, licking her lips after the kiss and he pulled away from her.

Harry opened his eyes and found her staring at him. Her pupils were still wide and black, though the iris had changed once more. The gold had bled into an almost forest green, and as he watched he noticed the hazel colour increase as she controlled the sense of sight.

"By far the most important organs of sense are our eyes. We perceive up to eighty percent of all impressions by means of our sight," Hermione continued, staring into his eyes.

"And our magic?" Harry inquired "Is that not a sense, too?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Quick," she murmured. "I always enjoy it when you show those moments of intelligence."

Laughing, Harry nodded. "I'll remember that."

"Our magic is a manifestation of emotion, which is, in essence, the spirit, or sixth sense," Hermione answered. "It's why we have outbreaks of accidental magic when we are young and/or upset. It's also the age of children that are just learning patience and tolerance, and how well we adapt to those emotions that guide our magic. How well we learn to control that magic and then how we focus the magic to channel it through a wand, and then later, mastering wandless magic."

And just like that Harry had Hermione focussed on a topic. He saw first hand what Dell had mentioned about zoning, though it didn't seem much different from when Hermione had her mind set to lecture on a specific topic.

"I am a firm believer it is also why both Teddy is, and Tonks was, clumsy. Not only are they magical but it manifests as a sense on their skin. Skin is the largest organ on the body so, in theory, Metamorphmagus are technically more magical than a regular witch or wizard because you have two senses combined into one, doubling the effect on the body! Oh, Harry--" She wiggled in his arms, trying to get up.

Harry grabbed Hermione from toppling off his lap and held on to her. "Wait!"

Hermione turned to look at him, and Harry noticed that her pupils were blown wide once more. He touched her face, gently stroking her cheek, and Hermione closed her eyes, sighing as she pressed into his touch. "Went off on a tangent?"

"Yes," Harry nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. "But it's all right. Tell me about us. About bonding. Why do we need contact?"

Hermione smiled and opened her eyes to look at him. "Human physical contact grounds us, gives us something to focus on instead of getting lost in the sensations of whatever sense is affected. People have been known to have gone mad from overstimulation as well as lack of touch."

"You are talking about contact comfort," Harry said. "This is the bonding that we will have. It is entirely physical?"

"Yes and no. It's physical and emotional. You and I already have a bond. This will just expedite it to the next level." Hermione reached under Harry's shirt, pressing her palms against his skin. Her nails scratched lightly on his chest and he held her hand to his breastbone, feeling the warmth of her flow through him. It was a simple thing, but it also felt more intimate than anything he'd ever experienced before.

"I don't want to rush into this and have you be hurt by my lack of knowledge."

"We'll learn together," Hermione promised. "I'd all but put most of this out of my mind once I got my Hogwarts letter. Telling you these things helps me remember."

"So, baby steps for Harry once more."

Hermione grinned, leaning forward on him and shifting comfortably, but leaving her hands inside his shirt. "You are correct that it is rather like the infant/caregiver bond. Although being adults, most just consummate the bond with sex. It's what feels good, feels right to us and is a natural progression." She looked up at him when he threaded his hands into her hair.

"We were very close to being there ourselves and I stopped us," Harry stated. "I wanted you, but I didn't want to be compelled to fuck you by a biological imperative that neither of us understood and I certainly didn't want to regret that tomorrow morning."

Hermione smirked at him. "Chivalry lives on."

Harry shrugged. "I was forced into many things while younger. Sex isn't ever going to be one of them."

"Point." Hermione agreed. "Back to the bond. The compulsion satisfies both a physical and emotional need by demanding touch. Physical contact is a requirement of being human. There's something healing about it. Touch is not just correlated with being human—it is being human. It goes back to the senses and considering that the skin is the largest organ it also correlates that it is the easiest one to satisfy."

"Can the bond be completed without sex?" Harry asked. He slid his fingers through her hair to the back of her neck, massaging the muscles of her nape and onto her shoulder.

"I would think so," Hermione answered and hummed in pleasure at his touch. "Mutual acceptance and agreement the bond exists seems to have satisfied it for now in spite of the fact that we are displaying a sort of skin hunger. What I can't understand is why now? It isn't as if there is a pressing need for a Sentinel at this time, so I don't understand why I came online at this time."

Harry stiffened in the seat and Hermione looked at him. "You've thought of something?"

Nodding, Harry sighed as he closed his eyes. "I wasn't safe for you then."

"Oh," Hermione replied. "The horcrux, yes, I can see that now. However, it's been years since the end of the war. Why now?"

"I haven't figured that part out yet," Harry answered, holding her close once more. "It'll come to me sooner or later if you don't figure it out first."

Hermione nodded, snuggling into him and closing her eyes. "I'll work on that."


End file.
